


No Good Time

by semperama



Series: Tumblr Ficlets - Pinto [20]
Category: Star Trek RPF
Genre: Angst, Infidelity, Jealousy, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-12
Updated: 2016-08-12
Packaged: 2018-12-02 09:13:37
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 933
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11506281
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/semperama/pseuds/semperama
Summary: Chris catches Zach cheating on his boyfriend, and it pisses him off for all the wrong reasons.





	No Good Time

The first time, it starts with a fight. A fight Chris isn’t sure he could explain if he tried. They are at a club, and Chris walks into the bathroom to find Zach with some barely-legal-looking kid pushed up against the wall, hands on his neck, tongue in his mouth. Chris says _fuck_ , spits it out angrily, and Zach hears him and whirls around, but Chris is already most of the way out of the bathroom by then, and he doesn’t stop walking until Zach comes up behind him and grabs him and _makes_ him stop.

“Chris—”

“What the fuck happened to your boyfriend, huh?” He doesn’t even know why he’s so mad. It feels like someone has packed his chest with hot coals, and he realizes when his knuckles pop that he’s clenched his hands into too-tight fists. It would feel good, he thinks, to hit Zach. He’s never been much of a fighter, but he can understand now how it might feel good.

“It’s not…” Zach falters, but only for a moment. “He’s not here, is he?”

The fuck is that supposed to mean? Chris has to take a step back, put more physical distance between them, just in case. “You know, every fucking time I think you can’t be more of an asshole, you prove me wrong.”

Lucky for both of them, Zach doesn’t stop Chris from walking away this time, but that doesn’t keep things from spiraling out of control. Chris feels reckless and determined not to think about Zach anymore, so he goes to the bar, knocks back two shots in quick succession, then pushes his way to the darkest, most crowded corner of the dance floor and waits for someone to catch his eye. But it has to be the right kind of someone. Suddenly, he’s not interesting in soft curves or fruity perfume or long hair. If Zach can do something totally out of character, well, so can he.

And that’s where Zach finds him what must be an hour later—grinding up some tall, androgynous blonde guy. Strange hands are grabbing Chris’s ass and a strange mouth is on his neck, and whether he’s a little drunk or not, it feels great.

“Chris, what the fuck?”

Zach rips him away from the guy, yelling to be heard over the music, and Chris sees red. If he had room to move, to wind up, to get momentum, he really would hit Zach this time. What right does he have? Who gave him the right?

“In case you hadn’t noticed, I don’t have a boyfriend. I can dance with whoever I want. Get the fuck off me.” He tries to pull himself free of Zach’s grasp. “Get off me, Zach.”

When he wants to be, Zach is a freight train. His fingers dig painfully into Chris’s wrist, and he drags him from the dance floor with alarming levels of grim determination. It’s the flutter of fear, of ‘what the fuck is happening’, that keeps Chris from planting his feet and putting a stop to it.

“We’re leaving,” Zach says once they reach the edge of the dance floor.

“Like hell we are.” Chris finally pulls his arm free. “If you want to go, you can go.”

“Christopher.” Zach’s voice is low, and it trips something in Chris’s lizard brain, something that makes him want to run. But he doesn’t get enough time for that. In the next instant, Zach grabs him by the waist, pulls him in, and kisses him hard—angrily and messily, their mouths off-center, his teeth catching Chris’s bottom lip and his fingers gripping his jaw.

The hotel is far enough away for them to keep their hands off each other in the cab but not far away enough for things to cool off—not far enough away for Chris to have time to decide not to do this. The moment they make it into Zach’s room, Zach is on Chris again, shoving him into the wall and attacking his mouth like he’s trying to hurt him more the seduce him. But Chris is seduced anyway. He’s rock hard in his jeans, grinding shamelessly against Zach’s thigh and clinging to his shoulders so he can’t get away.

“Didn’t know,” Zach says between kisses. “I didn’t know. I thought you were fucking straight.”

_I am_ , Chris thinks. He still has no idea what’s going on here, why he got mad or why he wants to climb inside Zach and call him home. He’s overwhelmed and out of his mind with lust. He’s doggedly ignoring the tiny part of his brain that’s screaming about that boy in the bathroom, and the other one across the country who’ll be waiting by the phone for Zach’s text.

“Want to fuck you,” Zach groans. His fingers slip under Chris’s t-shirt, and they feel like tongues of flame as they skim his abs. “Please.”

Chris says yes. He thinks he says yes. He wants to say yes, and that must be enough, because he ends up face down on the bed with Zach tonguing him open, fingering him open, then sliding inside too fast, too fast, though Chris begs him for more and faster and harder the whole time. The tears that leak out of his eyes aren’t because of the burn.

This was not how Chris’s first time should have gone. He wonders if Zach would care, if he knew. But a few days later, Zach goes back to New York and the one who’s waiting for him there, so there is never a good time to tell him.


End file.
